


Let Me

by belmanoir



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Raffles is manipulative, and Bunny has no pride, but both boys are very insecure, but you will have to be the judge of that, maybe schmoopier than those tags would suggest?, references to sodomy laws
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belmanoir/pseuds/belmanoir
Summary: Bunny can't figure out whether Raffles is hitting on him or not. Then he figures it out.He began to find occasions for little touches—at first rarely, then more and more. He would brush his lips against my ear when he whispered in it, and let his hands linger at my throat when he fastened my cloak. He sat too near for comfort on his sofa, and kept his grip on my glass for seconds after he handed it to me, smiling at me over the rim in a manner that heated my blood.Now he will kiss me,I thought a thousand times.Now...now...but he never did.
Relationships: Bunny Manders/A. J. Raffles
Comments: 18
Kudos: 39





	Let Me

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

I had been Raffles's accomplice some months now, and our association was growing increasingly intimate. Yet his manner towards me varied to an extraordinary degree. For the most part it was warm, but it could be silent and abstracted too. Cool now and then; at rare moments, even brutally cold.

Sometimes, however, it went beyond warmth, and turned significant, insinuating. Flirtatious was the only word—unless he sailed past that, and became downright seductive.

He began to find occasions for little touches—at first rarely, then more and more. He would brush his lips against my ear when he whispered in it, and let his hands linger at my throat when he fastened my cloak. He sat too near for comfort on his sofa, and kept his grip on my glass for seconds after he handed it to me, smiling at me over the rim in a manner that heated my blood.

 _Now he will kiss me,_ I thought a thousand times. _Now...now..._ but he never did.

On my part, I did not dare to go farther, and presume upon what might only be harmless flirtation. It might all mean nothing, or worse than nothing—for my real fear was that he had seen how much I liked it, liked _him,_ and employed this minor stratagem to keep me all the more firmly under his thumb. I'd seen him ruthlessly dazzle often enough to know that half the time it only meant he wanted to pick his victim's pocket, or get a better look at her rings. I was convinced that if I advanced one step to meet him, if I set my hand over his as it trailed up my arm—I should find him coolly turned away and affecting not to notice me.

One night, quite late, we sat up in his rooms. He had divested me of my coat hours ago and pressed a glass into my hand. Now he slouched at the other end of the sofa with his legs stretched between us, watching me with glittering eyes.

He'd been on edge all evening, silently smoking Sullivan after Sullivan, but every time I offered to go, he gave an impatient sigh and pushed me back into my seat. I had given up on getting anything out of him and was occupying myself with a volume of Tennyson when he suddenly rose and went swiftly into the hall.

I followed, thinking he had heard something in the passage, and found him with his hat already on his head and his Inverness cape half-buttoned. He looked at me, eyes glittering more unpleasantly than ever, and turned on his heel without a word.

"Where the devil do you think you're going?" I demanded.

"Out."

I shoved in between him and the door. "What have you been keeping me here all night for, then?"

He shrugged.

Heat flooded my face. "Is it a job, and you're going to cut me out?"

"Run through the last haul already?" he inquired poisonously.

The insulting implication was nearly enough to make me let him go—but not quite. "That's not why I asked, and you know it!" I retorted.

His smile was more poisonous still. "Do I?"

"You ought to," I said more hotly still. " _Something's_ up, for you to watch me all night as if you've got something to tell me, and then rush off without a word."

He pulled on his gloves with a crisp, furious motion. "I fancied a stroll in Hyde Park, that's all."

Bitterness coated my tongue. "Past the statue of Achilles, I suppose?" It was the most notorious cruising ground in the West End, and the best known to the police. I was jealous, of course, but when I thought of the danger, I could really have strangled him. "It's madness, Raffles! Don't you run enough risks as it is?"

"You never were a sportsman, Bunny. But you make more of it than it really is: I find myself in need of something I don't have at home, that's all, so I am going out to get it."

All his intimate smiles and whispers, the lingering touches and heavy-lidded looks, rose up and choked me. Was it really only to keep me on a leash, then? "And what's that?" I said through my teeth, determined to make him say it at least.

"A hand," he said crudely—and cruelly too. My own hot words echoed between us: _I'll lend you a hand as often as you like._

When I still didn't move from the door, he said more cruelly yet, "One that isn't clumsy."

It was low—the lowest thing I had ever heard him say. Could he possibly mean it? Had he kept me here debating whether I would do in a pinch, and decided he couldn't stomach it?

"For God's sake, Bunny," he said impatiently. "You can see I'm in an inhuman mood. I've no more wish to abuse you than you have to hear it, but since you prevent me from leaving you alone, you've got nobody to blame but yourself. Will you move, or shall I move you?"

Hurt and furious though I was, how could I let him go in such a mood? He was reckless enough in a good one; like this, he was ripe for any mischief, up to and including inviting the first policeman he saw to step into the bushes with him. But if he chose to force his way past me, I stood no chance against him. "Let me come and keep watch, at least," I burst out.

I was growing used to indignities and degradations; but I can't pretend I didn't feel his incredulous look. I clenched my fists and thrust my chin up and glared at him.

His mouth curved in amazement. "I almost think you would! You're a trump, Bunny, and I don't deserve you. But it wouldn't do. Surely you can see it wouldn't do."

Of course I could, but what difference did that make? It could not be worse to go, than to wait up alone to see whether he came back again. "Why not?" I challenged him.

The worst of it was that the fire in my blood was not all resolve. I had rather he stayed, of course I had. If he wanted a _hand,_ I had rather it be mine. But it would be something to be near him, at least. To hear him through the dark. I would take the degradation if I could get nothing else, so low had he brought me.

His lashes fluttered, and he laughed. "Why not indeed! It's a good thing my drink was mostly soda, or I really believe I'd be devil enough to take you up on it."

Something in his tone made me gather my dregs of courage in my hands. I could hardly sink farther than I had already. If he refused me, he refused. "You're not going to Hyde Park to indulge rarefied tastes, Raffles. Don't pretend the thing requires a delicate touch, anyway. Of all the charges to get run in for, in the end! Turn down the gas, if you must, and let me—"

But here my voice failed me, as the temerity of what I was asking him crashed in on me at last. _Let me._ My yearning rose up, and my bitterness. Why on earth should he let me, if he wanted somebody else? And why would he of all people take what was guaranteed and safe, when he wanted to snatch a prize from under someone's nose?

Oh, but if he would only let me! My breath came short.

He looked at me in blank surprise. "Goodness," he said briskly. "My strategy has progressed with a really extraordinary rapidity. I thought it would take at least another month or two before you made such an offer as _that."_ But his heart wasn't in it.

My hands hung limp. I could think of nothing to say.

He stepped in. I tensed, moving in front of the bolt—but he only tipped my chin up. "I've inveigled you pretty far into my little Inferno, haven't I? Nor have I scrupled to trade on your pluck and your loyalty. But for all that I have a sense of fair play left, I hope." He brushed his thumb across my lips. I gasped, and his fingers tightened under my chin. "I _can_ do without you," he said.

I wrenched away.

He sighed, and let his hand fall. "As usual, you fail to take my meaning. I don't say I want to. I don't know when I've gone to such lengths to keep my hooks in anybody. What I mean, Bunny, is that I've never been bowled out yet. Not at Lords, not at a crib, and certainly not in Hyde Park. There's no need to offer yourself up, unless you expect to enjoy the sacrifice."

I stared at him, all at sea with how quickly my luck had turned.

Perhaps his scruples were all for show—perhaps it was only one more masterful performance, to make me dig in my heels and insist. I didn't care a straw if it was. Even that would mean he wanted me to insist.

I could not quite see my way to clearing the last hurdle, though. _Clumsy_ still rang in my ears. He had said it out of cruelty, not conviction, but even so I was consumed with thinking that he would laugh at me when I kissed him—that my hand would shake when I touched him, and he would nobly overlook it. I wasn't an innocent, I'd done the thing before—but I was certainly too worked up to be adroit. I gave him a pleading look.

His mouth quirked, and humor gleamed in his eyes.

"Don't laugh at me," I said in a low voice.

"I laugh at everything, dear boy, most of all myself. At least, I do when I'm not in the devil's own mood. Well? It's not too late to step aside like a good little rabbit, and no hard feelings."

"I'd rather not."

He hung his hat on the peg. "It's too bad I can't spring a kiss on you as I did that burglary," he said. "Then you're in the middle of things already, and no need for any nervous anticipation."

 _I would enjoy it. There's not a chance in the world I wouldn't._ I was too much of a coward to say it. But I shut my eyes and leaned back against the door, tilting up my face to his.

I heard no footsteps, not so much as a rustle—of course I didn't. I never felt the slightest disturbance in the air. Somehow his lips were on mine.

He was ready to take his time, I think, and use every trick at his disposal to crack me. But my mouth swung open at his first touch. I let him manhandle me as he liked, and lifted my chin to let him detach my collar and slip it into his pocket. When he held my wrists against the door I opened my eyes at last, and caught the victorious gleam in his.

For all he liked risk, he liked when things went his way, too—liked to see the window-pane fall into our hands smooth as butter. So did I, and grinned fiercely back at him.

There was nothing brutal in his touch. But he would not brook a challenge—mastered me as thoroughly here as he did everywhere else. When I tried to tug my wrist free, he nipped at my lip and murmured wickedly, "Too soon to tell, Bunny, sit tight."

"Too soon to tell what?"

"Whether you're enjoying it."

"Raffles!" I expostulated. He laughed—quick and light, as if he could not help it—and pushed his thigh between mine. In that position there could be no mistaking my enjoyment, but still when he pinned me there and plunged his tongue in and out of my mouth in quite vulgar suggestion, he laughed at the jerking of my hips.

I turned my face away—only to be contrary, for in truth his satisfaction reassured me.

His black curls brushed my temple as he whispered against my ear, "Would you really have followed me to Hyde Park and watched me do this with somebody else?"

"You know I would have."

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, and then nipped it. "Would you have enjoyed that too?" 

I shivered against him.

" _I_ would have enjoyed it, Bunny. I imagine it would have been like casing a jeweler's window: you mean to have it, and you can't do a thing about it yet but stare."

"You know I hate all that part of it." But inwardly I was shocked, that he would talk about _me_ that way.

"Yes, you're a rabbit of very little patience."

" _You're_ not patient," I said, exasperated. "Your nerves are of a different order, that's all—you feel a thrill when I only feel sick."

He pulled back, just a little, looking as if I'd surprised him again. "Fair enough. Would you rather go full steam ahead?"

I shook my head. "I—let me touch you, A.J. And don't—please don't call me clumsy again."

He looked more surprised yet. "That rankled, did it? I was only needling." He released my wrists, and stepped away. "You only fumble when your blood is up, dear boy. If you were steady as a rock the first time, I should know you didn't care much about it."

"Do you mean that, Raffles?"

He hung up his coat on the peg. I thought of pressing _him_ against the door in his turn—but I could almost imagine him taking his chance to unlock it, and slipping out.

"Take me to your room," I said boldly.

His hand snaked round my wrist once more, and the thought came that he did not mean to let me slip away either. "I'm afraid I shan't follow your earlier suggestion, Bunny."

I did not take his meaning until we were in his bedroom, and he turned the gas up as high as it would go, regarding me with satisfaction. I looked back—let my eyes dwell on him at last without worrying what he thought of it. Lord, he was beautiful!

He did like to be stared at sometimes, and admired—but on the whole I believe it irritated him, for he didn't value it in himself any more than he valued his cricket, and resented owing some of his popularity to his looks. It was a tool, and he would use it since he could not be rid of it; but that was all.

He used it on me now, though—shrugged out of his jacket and braces as sinuous as a cat. He watched me like a cat, too, as he tugged his shirt out of his waistband and let me see a strip of skin.

The skin was nothing I hadn't seen before, but the way he let me...

"How long will you look at me like that, I wonder?" he said softly.

My eyes flew to his. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Oh, nothing to the purpose. But I shan't play cricket forever, Bunny."

It was my turn to laugh. "Don't tell me you're worried about losing your looks."

His mouth had a discontented twist. "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, eh, Bunny? Why fuss about the future? Perhaps I shall go to the gallows with the roses still blooming in my cheeks."

"Not if I can help it," I said. "You're impossible! First you were out of sorts because I didn't want to touch you, and now you're out of sorts that I do."

The fine lips curved reluctantly. "Yes. I never do know when I ought to be satisfied."

It seemed premature to tell him I liked more than his looks. "It's not too late to turn down the gas."

He sighed. "Now that would be cutting off my nose to spite my face. Would you agree to a blindfold?"

"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack, dear boy." He propelled me gently to the bed, and when I had tumbled back, he ran his hands up my thighs and swung them smoothly apart. "You've complained often enough about my fondness for surprising you."

I _would_ agree to it, another time—if there was another time. No doubt he'd torment me to within an inch of my life, laughing all the while; and for him I would grit my teeth and endure it. "Not tonight," I said, pulling him atop me before he could get his hands on my trouser buttons. His forearms bracketed my head, and his curls tumbled into my eyes.

I took his dear face in my hands, feeling his day's beard rough against my palms. "Let me…" I pulled him down to kiss me again, and while he was at it, I worked a hand between us.

I _was_ clumsy, and unsubtle, and he did laugh at my struggles with our buttons. But when eventually I got my fist round both of us, he didn't laugh as he propped himself on his hands to watch me do it. _I_ watched his face, and saw that look again—the acquisitive, canny jeweler's-window look, as though this was something he must still hold himself back from taking, even while I was giving it to him.

I fumbled with my free hand for one of his and dragged it down between us, lacing our fingers together. How I burned, to feel the pressure of those strong, elegant fingers at last! In truth, I couldn't believe it any more than he could. I couldn't believe that was his cock pushing hot and eager against mine—I expected it every moment to slip through my fingers.

He met my eyes, mouth curving—still holding his body away from me with the strength in one sinewy arm, to preserve the view. "Not sorry you volunteered?"

I laughed in breathless disbelief. "Do I look sorry?"

He lowered himself a little to kiss me, belly brushing my fingers. I tugged his shirt up out of the way, and shut my eyes to better feel his skin hot and tender against my knuckles. I tightened my fingers, and the muscles jumped.

His breath was hot against my face. I would have known the sound of it anywhere, but I'd never heard that hitch in it.

"Will you let me volunteer again?" I asked, heart pounding.

His laugh was half a moan. "I shall draft you into service, Bunny, if you don't take a firm line."

Half an hour ago I had been almost resigned to being only a convenience—something he was not obliged to go out for, since he had it at home. But his face—his tone—for the first time, I dared hope for more. "A.J.…do you…?"

His lithe body was growing less graceful now, above me; he groaned and pressed his face into the mattress beside my head. "There never was such a rabbit for untimely questions!"

I wrapped my arm around him and held him tight. "Never mind."

He shuddered against me. I felt him gritting his teeth to keep in his shout; I felt his seed spurting onto my belly, his own fingers smearing in it.

I could feel him, too, fighting to master himself before he raised his head and let me see his face.

I squirmed a little under his gaze, but in my heart I liked it. I was more used to watching _him_ , while his attention was elsewhere. It was heady to have those blue eyes fixed on me—only me. Untangling our fingers, he pushed my hand aside and made a one-man job of me.

He laughed again, and shook his head. "And here I thought you'd keep me sharp."

"What do you mean?"

"A man's reach ought to exceed his grasp, and the truth is I'm a cursed lazy fellow by instinct."

The blood would have rushed into my face, if it had been possible to be any more flushed than I was already. "I was too easy, you mean."

"Yes, rather." He twisted his wrist. "If you spoil me I'll go soft, and then what will we live on?"

"You really _do_ like to torment yourself."

He hummed agreement. "I'm doing it this very moment, in fact."

"How?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. I could see the temptation growing by leaps and bounds in his face, and on instinct I braced myself, for that look usually meant a mad start for him and terror for me. But he only ducked away, crawling down to lick the head of my cock. I shouted. Not loud, but he clamped his other hand over my mouth.

I could not see why that worked on me so, but it did. I writhed on that bed; I panted; I shut my eyes and felt as if no harm could ever come to me, while he held me fast. His mouth, on _me!_ The mere thought of it had set my heart racing a thousand times. Now the firm lips were really sealed round the end of my cock. His fingers were slender bands of steel, and his tongue—his tongue was a damn miracle. I wanted to tell him...I wanted to ask him...but he would not let me speak. I had put myself in his hands, and must trust him to see me through.

I tried to warn him at the end, but he took no notice of my muffled noises. So I spilled on his tongue, guilty and thrilled, and when he tasted it, he slid his hand tight against my belly and swallowed more of me, his mouth closing hot and wet over my length.

At long last I lay gasping and still, and he took his hand from my mouth.

When I opened my eyes he was licking his reddened lip like the cat that got the cream.

My spent heart gave another bound to see it. I tried to look worldly, but I'm afraid my smile must have been as shy as I felt. "May I...?" _May I stay?_ No, it was too much, I could not ask it.

The eyebrows went up.

I sat up, in sudden sympathy with his fear of going soft. I was too tired and satisfied to brace myself for a blow. "Shall I catch a cab?"

His brows rose further. "That's up to you, my dear boy."

I nodded and fastened my trousers—clumsily, and I hated that he saw it. It would be so cold outside. "Would you mind if I slept on your sofa?"

He sighed and went to take his pyjamas from the dresser. "I don't see how you would be in my way." He turned away to shuck off his trousers.

My mouth went dry as he unsnapped his sock garters. "Would I be in your way…"

He looked over his shoulder as he stepped into his pyjamas, and sighed deeper. "Spit it out, there's a good rabbit."

"...here?"

His mouth turned up. "Tonight you may sleep anywhere you like. But you must understand it's nothing to do with you, if another night I want my bed to myself. I'm not...I'm not an easy man to...you mustn't expect me to be any easier, because we've done _that_. I can't abide being pinned down, Bunny."

I flushed. "Unlike me, you mean, who _enjoys_ it."

"Don't be so vulgarly literal. I only want you to know what you're getting yourself into, for once."

I met his eyes rather defiantly. " _Am_ I getting myself into something? I'm willing to take my cue from you, Raffles, but you don't seem to understand that you've got to _give_ me one, first."

The fine mouth was growing ill-humored again. "In other words, you'll lend a hand when I want one. What an obliging fellow you are, to be sure."

"I don't know what you want!" I burst out passionately. "You say you hate to be pinned down, and then you're angry when I lie there and take it."

His eyes narrowed. "Oh no," he purred. "I didn't object to _that_ at all."

I felt almost near tears, and was mortified by it. "What do you _want_ , Raffles?"

"What do _you_ want?"

"You!"

His sigh was heavier than ever, but his face softened a little. "Be careful what you wish for, Bunny. I may be only paste, you know."

"I'll chance it," I told him.

He was taking off his shirt, now. It was no longer stealing to look; now all was aboveboard. How much of a share could I get from him?

I rose from the bed and went to him. He stood quite still as I circled him, silk pyjama-top dangling in his hand, and let me kiss one splendid, muscled shoulder. How many spectators had dreamed of doing this, from the stands at Lords? A hundred? A thousand? More? His skin was warm and human under my lips, and the muscles shifted as though he couldn't decide whether to shrug me off. 

"What do you want, Raffles?" I set my hands on his hips and kissed his other shoulder. "What's the matter?"

His shoulders relaxed—by conscious effort, I think. "I wonder sometimes how other men feel, who don't live by their wits. Who come by things honestly, and know their title is secure."

As an answer it wasn't much to go on, but I knew him a little now—better all the time. I had seen his eyes shine to look on a diamond, seen how greedily he pocketed it when his moment came, how he gloated over it all night—and how ruthlessly he fenced it in the morning. I was beginning to understand that he held things too lightly and too close. If that was all it was, and not that he didn't want _me_ …

Whatever Raffles thought, I didn't lack brains, only sense. I knew as well as he could himself that he was a bad gamble. I had known, too, that I shouldn't play baccarat that first night in his rooms. I'd never even really hoped to win, and I'd played anyway—thrown good money after bad and covered it with bad checks, for no reason in the world I could think of except that I couldn't help myself.

How many times since that evening had I regretted my weakness and villainy? Yet I imagined having it to do over again—imagined saying, _Thanks, but I'll watch the play tonight—_ and I knew if I had another shot, I'd be the same rotten fool again. Who said I had lost that game? Here I was, with _him._ Fat chance of me quitting while I was ahead.

"All right," I said. I kissed the knob at the base of his neck, and let him go. "No more questions for the moment. But I'll sleep in the bed tonight."


End file.
